


His Closet

by phoenixtheroman



Category: jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom, youtube - Fandom
Genre: Alter Egos, Angst, Guns, Hanging, Jacksepticeye egos, Let's Play, M/M, Markiplier egos - Freeform, Mentions Of Schizophrenia, Noose, Slit Throat, Soft Boys, Weird Pairing, YouTube, implied suicide, it just hurts a lot okay, it's all pain, jse - Freeform, knife, major death, shot to the head, soft wilford, trigger warning, two major deaths, video blogging, ze good doctah
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-05-03 21:51:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14578422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenixtheroman/pseuds/phoenixtheroman
Summary: “Hey, Vill? How long do you zhink ve vill be like zhis?”“Like what, Henrik?”“This… close. Happy. How long do you zhink it vill last?”“Forever.”Wilford had no idea how wrong he would be back then. It had been years ago that he made that promise to Henrik and now… was it all really for nothing? All the fights, serious and playful, all those ‘tea parties’... and nothing he ever did was enough. Nothing he ever did… it never seemed to matter after that.





	His Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Hey ho, author friend here. If you didn't happen to read the tags, that's cool, but read this now!! 
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING!  
> This story does have some heavily implied suicide and other major character death, so just be warned. And if you aren't okay with that, don't read it and have a lovely day!!  
> If you are okay with that, though, have a strange pairing that has stolen my heart, and enjoy!

“Hey, Vill? How long do you zhink ve vill be like zhis?”

“Like what, Henrik?”

“This… close. Happy. How long do you zhink it vill last?”

“Forever.”

Wilford had no idea how wrong he would be back then. It had been years ago that he made that promise to Henrik and now… was it all really for nothing? All the fights, serious and playful, all those ‘tea parties’... and nothing he ever did was enough. Nothing he ever did… it never seemed to matter after that.

“Hello,Vilford.”

Wilford had been lying underneath the big oak tree outside of Headquarters, trying to relax. It worked, as usual. Until he heard the voice and felt something small fall softly onto his stomach. He sat up and saw Henrik von Schneeplestein… hanging….upside down…in a tree. As if that wasn’t enough of a shock, the septic wasn’t wearing his scrubs or lab coat, either. Once the initial two seconds of shock wore away, he looked down to see Henrik’s glasses in his lap. The pink-haired man chuckled now and set the glasses back on his friend’s face.

“What are you doing in that tree?”

“Having fun? I realized I haven’t in… a long, long time. Und I guess I just really vanted to? Vhat are you doing out here?”

The doctor pulled up and back down, flipping himself out of the tree to sit in front of Wilford. He grinned a bit sheepisly as he realized he’d gotten some bark and leaf bits in his hair and tried to brush them out and then off his clothes.

“I come out here to relax sometimes! I like the air and the sunlight, you know?”

The memory faded as Wilford looked between the old photos on the floor and all over the walls. It was the one place he could pretend that everything was okay. The one room in his life that still had any color to it. It was the one place that Wilford felt like maybe… maybe he was still here. He was just in his office, stitching up Anti again… waiting for Wilford to tell him to take a break. 

Of course, Wilford knew that he wasn’t. Well, not his Henrik, anyway.

Henrik walked slowly through the corridor. Maybe he hadn’t really helped Anti a whole lot, but… at least he wasn’t having a panic attack anymore. He closed his door behind himself gently, approaching Wilford’s sleeping form. He couldn’t help but smile warmly at the sight, though as he looked his boyfriend over, he felt his cheeks start to heat. Wilford was wearing one of his shirts. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Wilford in just a t-shirt, but… somehow, it suited him. 

Henrik slipped into the bed beside Wilford, humming happily as the pink-haired man cuddled closer against him almost immediately. The doctor wrapped an arm around his middle, pulling him closer still. He could feel the iplier’s heartbeat thrumming in his own chest. Wilford had always had a stronger heartbeat, he’d supposed. It was comforting, honestly. 

Henrik woke in his office with a start, looking all around the room. It was quiet. Probably the middle of the night, perhaps even early morning. Actually, definitely early morning. He could hear a slight commotion as he waved his arm up in the air to turn the motion lights back on, and regretting it immediately. Between the intensely bright lights and the stiffness from how awkwardly he had slept, Henrik was already in hell. 

But that dream he’d just had… He couldn’t remember who it was in the dream with him… All he remembered was that he loved them very much. And that… he really missed them… His chest actually began to ache as he tried to pry the information out of his brain but there… there was just some sort of block there. He had dreams like this a lot… and whoever this person was. They obviously meant the world to him but… why couldn’t he remember?

But that’s when Jack stepped into the room, asking if Henrik had seen Marvin’s wand lying around anywhere. Henrik couldn’t help but chuckle; of course the magician had lost it. The poor kid would lose his head if it weren’t attached to him. Only seconds later, said magician crashed into Jack. After a moment or two contemplating where the wand could have gone, Henrik decided to accompany Jack to the kitchen to make breakfast… if only he’d known how drastically his life would change afterwards. He’d learn that Anti wasn’t a complete assbucket, as well as adopt half of his ego family. 

He got another son out of it, at least… but… he’d also gotten… something else out of it… something… darker. Something… something he’d never wanted to even think about.

A monster.

That soft, doubtful voice in his head that had somehow come out. That had attacked people, living and dead. That voice in his head that never seemed to go away or just shut the fuck up. And it could come out without Henrik ever being able to stop it. He had no idea how in the hell to even try to stop it.

Wilford woke to Henrik sitting upright in bed, dripping in a cold sweat. He frowned, taking his boyfriend’s hand and pulling it against his own chest. “Henrik? What happened?” he asked, sitting up soon after. Henrik turned to look at him, eyes immediately flooding with relief. He smiled toward the bubblegum man and hugged him tightly.

“Nozhing zhat isn’t better now, sveetheart.” he hummed quietly as Wilford pulled him into an even closer embrace. Henrik nuzzled his nose into the crook of Wilf’s neck, letting his eyes slip shut once again. Wilford nudged him once, twice. 

“Talk to me, babe,” Wilf spoke a bit more firmly now, though it was entirely from concern. Henrik finally budged and explained that he’d only had a nightmare. Wilford frowned slightly more at this, but allowed the doctor to curl more into him as they lay back down.

“Are you okay, gumdrop?”

“I am now, yes. More zhan okay, really. I have you, vhy vouldn’t I be?”

The pair spent a moment arguing over who was luckier before Henrik piped up with, “Of course it’s true! Vhy vould I lie to you?” Henrik had really thought nothing of it until he noticed the Iplier’s face begin to fall. He hadn’t meant to strike a nerve there.. 

“I… because everyone does, everyone always has… No one has ever said this stuff to me and meant it.”

Henrik felt his heart break for a moment. He felt physical pain at all the vunerability and pain he could hear in Wilford’s voice… and he couldn’t have that. Nope. Goddammit, he was a doctor and he was going to make this better. 

Henrik rolls over on top of Wilford to hold him down, tickling ruthlessly at his sides and stomach. “Dammit, Vil! Give me zhat smile back!” 

Wilford lets out a shaky sigh as he sits inside Henriks closet, eyes still glued on the pictures. It was okay, of course. Henrik would never notice him here—he never came into his room anymore. Most days Henrik slept in his office or on the couch with Marvin.

The bubblegum man sniffles sadly as he shuffles some polaroids around the carpeted floor, looking around at all the old photos of him and Henrik together. Some outside, some at a nearby park, a few just on the couch because Henrik just loved to take pictures… but… it didn’t matter anymore. And, as he played a simple gold ring in his fingers, he knew that was his fault.

It was tearing him apart. Wilford could see how the sickness was tearing his husband apart and god, he just wanted the pain to stop. He wanted Henrik to just be happy again but he didn’t know how to help. And now the man he’d loved… he was falling apart, always making himself sick, always so scared and paranoid and… He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. 

He just wanted Henrik to be happy.

And that was what drew him to the Author, the man anyone could go to for a favor. The only catch? They also owed him one. To be fair, Wil had asked Host several times to help and he always said no. That he couldn’t help him because the consequence would be too great. So Wilf waited. And waited. And tried to help as much as he could… and then it happened.

“Hello Wilford. You needed me?”

Wilford jumped as felt the Author’s presence in his room. He sits up sleepily, rubbing at his eyes as he looks toward the voice. The Author smirks in the dark, speaking a nearby lamp into coming on. 

Wilford looks toward the sleeping man beside him, smiling weakly at his husband. His face falls more serious, however, as he looks back to Author. 

“I want a deal.”

Author scoffs, already turning toward the door. 

“I’m not making deals today, Wilford. Go back to sleep.”

“Author please! I’ll do whatever you want, but please just help me. I need your help, just please…. please… I’ll do anything.”

Henrik stirs gently, rolling to face Wilford and curling up into him. It was obvious he was still out like a light, but… like this, it was easy to forget all the pain he’d been through. All the pain he’d brought on to everyone else… but this was for Henrik…

“I’m listening.”

“I want Henrik to stop hurting. I need you to take his schizophrenia away from him. Please, Author..”

Author smirks to himself, knowing fully that the only way to get rid of the doctor’s illness is to take away a large part of Henriks memories. He would have to take him back to before the pond. Before the day he snapped and walked straight in, even knowing he couldn’t swim. Of course, another traumatic experience would bring the darker part of him right back, but.. this would be far too… entertaining.

“I’ll help you. But you need to know that the only way to get rid of that is… you won’t like it.”

“I don’t care! I just want him to be happy again… please, Author!”

The Author takes a hard look down at the two, but his smirk remains, if only halfway plastered onto his face. He extends his hand to Wilford, who takes it eagerly.

“When the sun rises, Henrik will no longer be burdened with mental illness. The dark in Henrik will disappear, as well as every memory since the day he drowned. And Wilford now owes Author… nothing. This is entertainment enough.”

Wilford chokes as he lets Authors hand slip out of his own. His… memories? Gone? Henrik wouldn’t remember him after morning… well, he would but… not their relationship. Their love, their fights, their marriage… all gone.. but.. it was for Henrik! And who said Henrik wouldn’t love him again? He could try again! He was sure it could happen. Henrik would love him again. He had promised he always would… right?

Right?

Wilford wipes his eyes numbly as he remains in Henrik’s closet. It was all his fault. Henrik never came back to him… not the way he had.. he pulled the chain from around his neck, staring now at the two rings that hung loosely on it. And hey, even better, the joke of the fucking year: the voice was back… Henrik’s darkness was back and the doctor still didn’t remember him… He just had to come to terms—he’d done this to himself.

His Henrik was gone forever.

Henrik sat numbly at his desk. He knew what had to happen: he’d been fighting it all day because no matter what they may have said, they needed him. His sons needed him. But… he couldn’t fix himself. That damn flower had merely destroyed him, was still festering in his chest. 

He was dying.

He finally managed to make himself send the text to both his remaining sons, now simply waiting. There was no backing out now. 

Wilford was the first to arrive here, sliding onto the once clean desk.

“Hey, dad. What’s up?”

Henrik just smiled, waiting as he heard the static around Antis arrival. The demon glitches into the room, snacking on a bag of marshmallows. The doctor had to remind himself that Anti was grown and that he didn’t need to be scolded by his adopted father before…. before Henrik asked them what he needed to ask them.

Anti gave a usual, sarcastic greeting but seemed to notice that Henrik was looking more… well, dead to be honest. 

Henrik smiles warmly between the two of them, offering that he needed to tell them both something. And while he wanted to badly to explain that he should have stayed dead the first time, he just… couldn’t. How could this man tell the two he was so desperately close to that they had fucked up by bringing him back to life? So, he forced himself into asking the two of them for a favor.

Both his sons at this point are starting to feel that something is off. Wilford, especially. 

Wilford knew right away something was wrong. He knew Henrik didn’t feel well. He knew that his doctor’s body was tearing itself apart because someone hadn’t taken into account that a dead body would continue to decay. And now, he knew that Henrik was dying. 

Of course he knew. And while he had platonically “adopted” Wilford, Wilf still knew who he really was. Wil knew that Henrik still loved him like before… but perhaps that he wasn’t sure where to place it. And god that broke Wils heart. He just wanted his husband back. It had been fucking years. Years. 

But now… now he realized it would never happen. He knew it wouldn’t happen this time and that fucking… he just kept his mouth shut for the time being. 

But when Henrik asked him and Anti to kill him… he lost it. All that composure, all that strength he’d had before Henrik had given him the lab coat he always wore. Literally always. And he’d given it to Wil, told him to keep it warm for him… and all the calm exterior he’d had crumbled.

Wilford jumped at Henrik, unable to contain himself as he wrapped his arms around the other man. God, even his heartbeat felt different now. 

Of course Wil knew how bad he was. He already knew the Doctor was dying. Who do you think it was that checked up on him all the time? Who laid blankets over him when he fell asleep in his office, which, by the way, was every night. At least, when he slept at all. Some mornings, Henrik even woke up with breakfast already there.

Always Wilford. Because he knew he would never have his husband back the way he used to, but still felt that need to take care of him. Those vows weighed heavy on him, to the point where Wilford was sure that his promise was making his and Henrik’s wedding bands lay heavier against his skin. For better or for worse, right? 

Henrik hissed in response. Wild knew he had to be in excruciating pain, but he needed to hug him if this was… if this was the end. Thankfully, Henrik wrapped his arms tightly around him, too. Even if they both knew it was hurting him like a bitch. 

“Please…” Wil begged as Henrik pulled back from him. He felt the tears hot in his eyes as they ran down his cheeks, too. “Please, you can’t do this. Please…” 

Henrik cupped his cheek and smiled bittersweetly. “Just… make it qvick, yeah?” 

“Henrik… I’m..”

Anti hesitates for a moment before glitching begins the doctor. He’d asked, right? He asked them to kill him. Some shit, a father asking his sons to murder him, he supposed… but… there was something else here. Something else between Henrik and Wilford. And…

Oh god. 

He remembered them.

He remembered everything. Anti remembered the old house. He remembered the two of them through fucking everything. Always being gay as fuck together. 

…

Anti remembered being Henriks fucking best man at their wedding.

Anti choked on the memories flooding back into him as he glitched his knife against Henriks throat, pausing just another moment before digging it into the skin and slashing his throat. 

All those memories. All the good times, every breathing moment of those two incredibly gay assnuggets’ marriage. He remembered it all, right then. 

What had happened?

“I’m sorry.”

Henrik smiled again as he felt the blade against his skin, offering an apologetic look to Wilford as he spoke again.

“No, no.. it’s.. it’s better zhis vay. Zhank you, Anti.”

This was it. This was the end; he would die soon. But not soon enough. Fuck, he couldn’t even feel the knife at his neck around the searing pain covering his entire chest.

He looks again to the pink haired man, not noticing how the candyman reached for the chain under his button up. “Wil.. Wilford, please kill me.”

He knew what would happen. It was Wils one weakness. He literally couldn’t say no if he was asked to kill. There was something there, some part of his brain that just wouldn’t let him refuse that specific request. And Henrik watched as the barrel of Wilfs favorite gun was now pointed to his head. 

Tears slipped from both of their eyes as they stared at each other, blood still pouring from the Doctors neck. 

“I’m sorry..” Wilford muttered quietly, looking into his once-husbands eyes for the last time before squeezing his eyes shut and pulling the trigger. 

Henrik didn’t even register the shot. But as Wilford grew more distant, though still the last thing in his sight before his eyes slipped shut, he could feel his head getting warmer. And he.. oh.

Memories spilled back into Henriks head uncontrollably. Wilford. 

All of Wilford.

The first time they met, their old house, their first kiss, how Wilford always stole his shirts, and how a few times he stole Wilfords.

Wil would always tell him he looked good in pink, so he wore it for their day. Their wedding day. He remembered the small gold ring he’d proposed with. The one he now knew Wilford was wearing under his shirt because he could remember seeing the outline of it underneath. 

But it was over too soon.

Henrik hit the floor with a quiet thud and Wilford abandoned the room as quickly as he could, one hand curling Henriks lab coat around him, the smoking pistol still firm in his other hand. 

Wilford had murdered his own husband. 

Wilford couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as he sat in Henriks closet, still clutching the lab coat tightly against his chest. Always clutching the lab coat. 

Wil just wanted to see him again. Kept calling his phone just to hear him fumbling over the voicemail box. ‘You ah… I.. zhis is Henrik von Schneeplestein. Leave a message. Or don’t. Vhatever.’ And then Wils voice behind him, and a few rushing cars. ‘There, that’s good, gumd—.’ It cut off, as time was too short. 

Henrik had never changed it… they’d made that together just after their wedding, on their way to the airport. Henrik was never much good with the everyday technology. Amazing with robotics, but could never deal with a phone or a normal desktop computer. 

||TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE||

He couldn’t do this anymore, he thought. He looked up toward the rafter in the top of this closet, the same noose as always hanging there. He was happy that Henrik had never used it, though he knew the doctor had thought about it several times. 

And as Wilford continued to stare at the noose, he found it all the more.. inviting. Maybe he’d end up wherever Henrik was. 

He… the realization reached him. And he knew it was a bad idea, because Henrik wouldn’t have wanted this… Host would be upset and he knew that well, but… Well, if Host really wanted to, he could stop this. 

Wilford stood gently, hand gripping the loop of rope before his eyes. Henrik had kept it here around the end… just for bad days, really. 

He could be with Henrik.

All reason left him now. Because he could be with Henrik again. He needed to be with Henrik again. 

He needed Henrik. 

He could do this when he knew Henrik was there. Even if the doctor was never quite the same, he was still there. It was still Henrik.

Wilford pulled the necklace out of his shirt and off his neck, staring at the chain pooled in his palm. He shifted his hand, and there they were. Both their wedding bands laid against each other in his hand, and Wilford only now felt the tears returning against his cheeks. His chest hurt from crying so much.

Everything hurt from crying so much. 

And that’s how it would end. 

Here.

In Henriks closet. 

With nothing left to lose.

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo there may possibly be a part two to this? 
> 
> Lemme know what you think and if you like it/think I should make another part of this! Also I'm sorry for the angst but I live on it. Whoops?


End file.
